


Want

by daydreamerdisease



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Blindfolds, Bondage, Chains, D/s, Dom/sub, Light CBT, M/M, Sensory Deprivation, Sibling Incest, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 19:05:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1315915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamerdisease/pseuds/daydreamerdisease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean could picture him lounging in front of the rickety table the motel provided, wearing a loose white shirt pushed up to his elbows, slacks left unbuttoned from the last time he’d used Dean’s mouth. Doing the crossword and completely unbothered by the sight of his brother chained, blindfolded, and kneeling by the bed just a few feet away...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Want

**Author's Note:**

> Everything that happens in this scene is consensual, despite Dean's struggle. Hope you guys like it. I may write some more.
> 
> Kinda sorta inspired by this song: http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=VJBHUCT5XFI

The shackles tug on the sensitive skin of his ankles, pinching and scraping, but he pulls harder and knows he’ll wake up in the morning with the skin raw. He doesn’t care. He likes the reminder.

His eyes are puffy and sensitive behind the blindfold wrapped around his head, cheeks still wet from tears of frustration he couldn’t hold back. He’s going to blame it a long night of work tommorrow when someone makes an offhand comment, a rookie sheriff maybe, about the swollen edges of his eyelids.

His knees are red and tingly, the rug which was once soft, now itchy and rough, licking at the nerve endings of his legs until he can’t find a position that won’t send electricity through his limbs.

The rope slides against his wrists where his hands are tied in a knot, leaving engravings so deep he could feel it in his bones, and every time he flexes his hands it sends a zing of heat all the way down to his toes.

The sting of the clamps on his nipples is constant. The clamps are tied to the rope on his wrists, leaving him with no other choice but to tug on them when he has his hands settled on his lap or stomach. An exhale of breath brings attention to the weight that tugs on his chest until he’s breathing faster, harder. They’ll be bruised blue, swollen, and sensitive under the crisp white dress shirt he wears on cases for the next week.

His ass firmly planted against the heels of his feet is rosy pink, large hands having left their mark on each cheek, like imprints of a hold too strong, a touch permanently embedded where he wants it.

A small twitch of the plug inside him as he rocks into place, wet with lube, big enough to leave him stretched but still aching to be full, makes his cock jump where it’s pressed against his stomach.

The plastic leather ring that fits snugly around him leaves him fully erect after so many hours, the head weeping precome with sympathy.

He lets out a soft noise and tugs at his bonds. The chains tied to his shackles  
are loud when he moves and he does it again, a whine spilling from his lips. One name.

“ _Sam_."

He hears nothing but his own breathing.

"Sam..Sammy. I..I just.. need.. _Sam_.”

He’s lost his vocabulary. His throat is parched from the lust crawling up his throat with every breath he takes. Enough to make his voice gruff with want. With need.

Time is an illusion. He can’t remember how long he wasn’t here. He doesn’t want to know anything but the feeling of being kept. Owned. _Loved_.

The deliberate drum of fingers against a table make him freeze. His throat closes over another whine and his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. His whole body thrums with heat.

"What, Dean?"

The words come out almost exasperated. As if it was just any other time when his older brother was trying to get his attention. Perhaps to share a joke or something insensitive.

Dean could picture him lounging in front of the rickety table the motel provided, wearing a loose white shirt pushed up to his elbows, slacks left unbuttoned from the last time he’d used Dean’s mouth. Doing the crossword and completely unbothered by the sight of his brother chained, blindfolded, and kneeling by the bed just a few feet away.

His tone makes Dean’s eyes water a little bit.

"I need.."

"What do you need?" He sounds forever patient.

He hears the ruffle of papers being put aside and the creek of wood as Sam turns his attention fully to him.

Dean’s nostrils flare as he lets out a uneasy sigh and bites down on lower lip to keep himself from caving in.

The rule was simple.

If he wanted something, he’d have to beg for it. Sam would give him whatever he wanted as long as Dean asked.

The problem with that, was that Dean’s pride kept him stubborn, not wanting to give into what his little brother demanded. He didn’t beg for anything, let alone for permission.

Sam knew that, which was why Dean was in such a state, bound for the last few hours, having woken up early to start their game.

When he said nothing, Sam moves back to his crossword, research, or whatever it was that he was doing while knowingly torturing his older brother.

Dean let his head hang, eyes blinking back tears, and he shifts positions again, opening his legs a little wider in hopes of finding some sort of relief.

It only proves to make things worse. The movement causes him to clench around the plug in his ass, pressing it firmly against his prostate. A noise, unbidden, comes out of his mouth, and he can’t help but rock his hips slightly against the air. If he couldn’t get Sam to give him what he needed then he would find it himself.

He pants as the plug shifts as he clenches and unclenches, his cock leaking more at the stimulation, and bites down hard on his lip at the coil of need that starts in his lower belly.

He’s so close, just a little more, after so long of holding out, and not even the cock ring could-

 

 **Smack**.

 

The pain rivets down his spine, surprising him, and makes him cry out. His cock jerks at the sting but he doesn’t come. It’s not enough.

He hadn’t even heard Sam move, nor the whistle of the paddle as it came down. It hit his upper pack, more of a tap than anything, but it’s enough to make him fall forward a little in surprise. That only brings his hands in front of him which tugs at the nipple clamps.

Dean whimpers but automatically moves back into position. He was so fucked. He shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t up to him what he got, he knew that. He wasn’t supposed to be doing anything but what Sam explicitly said or he asked for. The thought sends adrenaline through his veins.

"Shhh.." Sam’s hand comes down on his head and pets the baby hairs on his forehead. He leans into it instinctively, despite feeling unsure for just the shortest of seconds. Sam always knew the right touch to get him to react though. "You’re okay. But you know better, Dean. You don’t get to come without permission and that ass is only mine play with."

The hand moves down to stroke at the tips of his ears, the nape of his neck, and the freckled back he hit moments earlier. Dean relaxes under his touch slowly.

"God, Sammy," he chokes out.

His younger brother moves his hand down his chest and swipes a thumb over a sensitive nipple. Dean keens and shakes his head.

"Please, please."

"What do you want, Dean? Tell me and you can have it." The hand skims down his stomach and abs and falls to where he has his legs spread to stroke an inner thigh. Dean’s breath grows heavy and he shudders as a knuckle grazes his balls.

"I want..your hand. Anything."

Sam makes an unimpressed noise and swipes the head of his cock. Dean arches against his touch and gasps softly.

"You want my hand here?"

Another hand suddenly presses against the plug in his ass, pressing it in, and then pulling out using the base, before pushing it back in again. Dean fists his hands and feels beads of sweat collect against his neck.

"Or here?"

He swallows thickly and shakes his head.

"You don’t want anything?"

The hands leave him completely then and Dean makes a noise he would definitely deny later.

"No! Sammy. No, no. Please don’t leave me like this," he begs, voice cracking, and mind frantic at the thought of staying like this even longer.

Sam doesn’t say anything for a long moment but then Dean feels his hand clamp around the nape of his neck and push. He scoots forward automatically, as far as the chains let him, and presses his face against the warm fabric of his brother’s slacks. Sam sighs.

"I don’t know why you’re so stubborn, Dean. I love you-" Dean makes a small sound of denial. "- _I do_. And if you’d just talk to me, I’ll give you what you need. So talk.”

It was an order, Dean knew that. His entire body recognizes it as one and he opens his mouth to answer before he even realizes what he’s doing. He’s just so tired, on edge, and his facade crumbles as he presses his face against Sam’s thigh.

"Want you in me. Want your hands on me. Everywhere. Your lips and your cock. I want you, Sam. I wanna come. I’m so hard. Just..please," he babbles until Sam pulls his head back, causing a whine that cuts it off. Large fingers stroke his head.

"That’s all I wanted to hear," Sam says. Then, he grabs his shoulder and wraps an arm around his waist, tugging him up on his feet. Dean’s balance is off and he falls heavily against Sam but his younger brother doesn’t call him out on it. Instead, he steers him towards the bed.

Dean’s legs hit the edge and he careens towards it, only to be caught at the last moment and be settled down by gentle hands. His lets out a huff, his pride rearing it’s pretty head, and pulls out of Sam’s grasp to turn on his stomach.

Sam lets out a growl behind him, understanding or just genuinely ticked, but either way, Dean just let’s out a grunt when he’s shoved none too gently to the middle of the bed. Sam tugs his arms above his head, making him moan as his nipples are pinched, and his brother presses on his lower back with his palm.

"Don’t move," he orders. Dean grits his teeth but says nothing.

The clank of chains makes him fight the instinct to turn his head around. A second later, his feet twitch when Sam removes the shackles off his ankles, and he kicks out without thought when the second one is pulled off with a tickle to the arch of his foot. He hits a strong thigh and a blow immediately lands on the meaty strip of land under his left buttcheek.

He jerks, nipples and cock rubbing against the bed, and bows his head forward with a moan.

"You know, I’m starting to think you want a little more than just to get fucked, Dean." Hands settle on his lower back as Sam straddles his thighs, still dressed from what he could make out. They squeeze at the muscles of his back and run down to squeeze at his ass. It’s already been lit up earlier but he can’t help but roll his hips against the hands in invitation.

Sam knows him better than he feels comfortable with. And he’s not lying. He wants..God, he wants so much. He wants to come. Wants to hurt and be hurt. Wants to be held down and held open for hours. Wants to fight him the entire time. He just wants wants.

A scratch of a nail against the skin just above his crack brings him back to himself.

"I think you want me to give you something else too, huh? Not just my hands." Fingers dive in between his cheeks and press against his hole. "Or my cock." The line of Sam’s cock presses against his thigh. "I think you want more."

Sam bends down and bites hard on a cheek, ripping out a surprise gasp from him. “My teeth, maybe?” Hard nails dig into his back and draw red lines that prickle with dots of blood when he pulls away. “My nails?” Dean let out a shaky breath but doesn’t say a word.

A snort behind him doesn’t prepare him for the fire when his balls, which were snuggly pressed against the bed a moment earlier, are suddenly tugged down and pinched hard. Dean tries to scramble away, pressing his feet into the mattress, and stretches his arms up to grab the headboard with a wince.

It’s a futile attempt, though, because his hips are grabbed, and he’s tugged down before he can find purchase. His balls and cock throb, still hard and now more swollen than ever, and his nipples match as they’re carelessly rubbed against the bed.

"Too much?" The words are mocking and Dean grits his teeth hard enough to make his jaw tick and he turns his head to glare in the direction of Sam’s voice behind him.

“ _Fuck you_ , Sam.”

The next blow doesn’t surprise him as much as the last, but he’s as tense as a bow and it hurts more than he expected, his brother’s fingers catching against his perineum.

"Oh, I’m gonna fuck you alright. On your back. Now."

Dean doesn’t move and Sam grabs at his arms as he slips off of him, turning him and ignoring his protests as his nipples are pulled. Dean kicks out with his legs but they’re easily held down by Sam’s and instead one of his hands catches hard against Sam’s cheek. His hands are forced over his head for his effort, sending a blossoming flame to his chest at the new angle.

"If that bruises, I’m taking it out on your hide," Sam growls, digging a knee into his thigh, and wrapping a hand around his cock to jerk it. Dean arches his back, wrenching against his hold, but moans when Sam lets his hands go to pinch gently at his balls, much gentler than before. He flinches but doesn’t fight.

"Yeah?" He pinches a little harder, again and again, until Dean’s eyes water and he whimpers, squirms. Sam’s hand lets him go and he slips between his legs, shoving them up against his chest.

"Want me to fuck you now, Dean? Tell me."

Dean pants and gives him a small nod.

The plug is shifted to hit his prostate and he startles but Sam slips it out almost impatiently. It lands somewhere on the bed to his right before two thick fingers slip into his hole. Sam moans this time, making Dean bite his lip at the sound.

"So fucking open for me, baby. Gonna fuck you so hard." The fingers slip out, catching at the rim, and Dean hears the rustle of clothes being shoved away, before Sam scoots closer and aligns himself. Dean’s muscles shake with anticipation and Sam presses a hand on his abdomen to feel it as he shoves in with one, fast thrust. Dean throws his head back but he’s stopped from moving against him by strong hands on the back of his thighs.

"No." The muscles of his legs clench at the clear threat in his brother’s voice and then Sam moves. He pulls mostly out before shoving back in with precision Dean never thought was possible. His whole body seems to fight to move with him and once a steady pace is found, Dean doesn’t hold back and shoves with his hips, hard.

Sam lets out a gasp but a moment later Dean’s thighs are shoved up against his chest and Sam propels him against the pillows with the force of his thrust. His nipples are tweaked briefly before Sam fists his cock and squeezes his balls with his other hand.

Dean clenches his own hands above his head and lets out short, staccato breaths as Sam fucks into him.

"S-Sa-" The larger man strokes him faster, thumb nail pressing hard into the slit of his cock at the up stroke, and Dean cuts off with a groan as he fights back the urge to come.

"Please- Sammy, let me-" He cuts off, mouth dry, and presses his face against his arm as tears fill his eyes. He’s been hard for what feels like days, his whole body taunt, and he lets out a low sob just as his vision whitens and he hears Sam speak.

“ _Come_.”

He blacks out for a long, glorious second and comes to at the sound of Sam groaning on top of him and the feeling of his cock twitching inside him as he comes. His hole is left wet and open as Sam pulls out and his legs are pushed down onto the bed. His stomach is covered in come but he pays it no mind.

Dean lets out a feeble whimper at the emptiness but doesn’t protest when Sam settles next to him and tugs at the rope on his wrists to untangle the knot. The clamps come off next, making him curse, and his chest throb. Then, his head is moved to the side, and he blinks through the sting in his eyes when the blindfold is removed.

He catches Sam’s smug grin before he closes them again and curls up with a sigh.

"That good, huh?"

He throws out an arm, narrowly missing his brother’s shoulder, and presses his face against his neck, inhaling the sweet scent of his sweat.

"Shuddup, Bitch."

He hears a low muffled “Jerk” over the top of his head just before sleep pulls him down and smiles.


End file.
